wed/thur/fri/sat/sun/mon. 6 nights here and I don't think I am leaving yet. I'm so cranky and I won't let anyone in, to see me or otherwise.
six nights means I'm used to the smells, the noise, the unending clash of bells and whistles. the wake-ups, double now that my blood sugar needs to be checked. so midnight. two am. four am. and every two hours onward.
I am allowing the drugs to block this out but the haze has to lift (and it does, an hour after the IV push). the memories will resurface and bind themselves to me, scar tissue on my fingers and belly and arms. tiny scars. a broken summer.
on Friday I am supposed to move to Los Angeles. this is no longer. I have realized it would be foolish to go in the midst of what my doctor dubbed "a bad, bad time." I don't know if I have given up or accepted the reality that no doctor thinks it's a wise choice for me to travel right now, let alone deal with the stress of a cross country move.
I had been so looking forward to a restart but I have to tie my laces before I run.
soon I'll stop running fevers and throwing up. I'll stop with these allergic reactions. and soon they'll figure out why my diabetes isn't responding to insulin the right way. soon they'll diagnose me with something else and put me on a new regime.
until then, I am here.